Author's Note: This is it—final chapter! There's still an epilogue to come, but this is the end of the story proper. It's been a heck of a journey, and I'm not sure I've ever finished a chaptered story this quickly before. A thousand thanks to my beta reader, SunshineKatz, and thank you to everyone who reviewed and helped spur me on to keep writing.
I feel like I needed to write this story and it feels good to see it all out there and see it embraced as it has been. Seriously, I can't tell you how happy this makes me. I've got a lot of mixed emotions with this story ending, but I feel like I wrote the story I sent out to and it feels good.
Happy holidays!
Chapter 16: Shining
Hermione tucked her hair back behind her ears. Her fingers twitched. She was in a fresh set of robes and she'd brushed her hair into a semblance of order. She had her notes tucked into her beaded bag. She'd wait and see how the meeting went before bringing them out, but it was good to be prepared. She gave Skim a kiss on the head for luck. He rolled over onto his side, exposing his furry belly.
Chuckling, she gave him a quick belly rub, even though she really didn't have the time. It helped settle her nerves for the trip. She approached the fireplace and threw a pinch of green powder in it. "Edoras!
Flooing was never pleasant. She was fairly certain it was never going to be pleasant. She arrived in a fireplace tall enough to accommodate a fairly tall man and looked around. The room couldn't be more than six foot across and six foot deep. A couple of cloaks and an umbrella hung on pegs on the wall, and she recognized a hook that might have held a broom, but was empty. She thought she was alone until she heard a voice squeak out at her from about knee level.
"Miss, this way. The Mistress is expecting you." The little house-elf took Hermione by the hand. Instead of going through the door in front of them as Hermione anticipated, the elf Disapparated with her.
She reappeared in an old fashioned sitting room. Everything was meticulously clean and elaborately built—the scrollwork on the legs of the sofa alone must have taken someone ages—but the room gave the impression of having been situated in exactly the same way for a hundred years. Hermione reminded herself that if this was the old Fawley family home, it probably had been exactly the same for at least a hundred years. It took a moment before she noticed the small woman in the armchair, looking up at her through round spectacles.
The elf bowed to her mistress. "Will Mistress Alathea be needing anything else?"
"Tea and scones, Whizzy."
"Yes, Mistress." The elf Disapparated.
"I do hope Whizzy was cordial to you. I sent her to meet you at the Floo point—I didn't want you have to walk through the garden path this time of year. You might catch a chill." She pulled a shawl tighter over her shoulders.
"Whizzy was perfectly polite. Your Floo point is outside the house?"
"Oh yes. I had the Floo entrance moved to the outer edge of the garden some years ago. It cuts down on unexpected visitors." She waved a gloved hand at Hermione, indicating she should sit on the sofa.
Hermione took her seat carefully; it wouldn't do to break a hundred year old sofa as soon as she arrived. "Isn't it rather inconvenient for you?"
The elderly witch chuckled. "Not at all. I don't get many visitors and I go out myself very seldom."
Well, Narcissa had that right. "I was surprised to get your letter given that we've never met. Pleasantly surprised, but surprised."
Alathea smiled and her face was a map of wrinkles. "While we've never met, your reputation has not escaped me. War heroine. The Muggle-born witch who set out to surpass her classmates—and succeeded. Always looking to defend those who need defending. Headmistress McGonagall did mention a concentrated effort on your part to free the house-elves of Hogwarts."
Hermione was almost surprised that McGonagall had remembered that last part and thought it worth mentioning. Then again, McGonagall had always been sharp. Hermione shrugged with a smile but didn't deny any of the epitaphs. War heroine wasn't exactly her favorite way to think of herself—the war had cost them all so much—but she wouldn't deny it when it was a point in her favor here. "I'd like to hope that I could use what I've learned to help prevent there being another war like that. If there's less of a sense of otherness and more of an understanding of people as people."
"Precisely why you're here, my dear. I have lived through more wars in my lifetime than any person should have to endure. I'd like to hope that not only are we spared another war in my remaining years, but that my great-grandchildren might be spared for all of their lifetimes." She looked over her spectacles at her. "It's a bit late to spare my grandchildren. I want my legacy to be a better world than the one I was born into. A world with war every other generation is entirely unsuitable. That said, I am tired. And I recognize that my expertise may not match the skillset needed to make this work. It's going to be a full-time effort. Tell me, my dear, how would you stop a war?"
"The question is so much bigger than that. And so much more important." Hermione leaned forward. This was what had been simmering in her brain since before she'd left the Ministry. Sure winning a war was great if you happened to find yourself in one, but wasn't it so much better to figure out how to keep it from happening in the first place? Isn't that what they ultimately needed? "We don't need to stop a war. We need to prevent one. We're not so different, in all the ways that matter—the established Wizarding families, and Muggle-borns. But there are differences that need to be considered and dealt with for the relationships that exist between both halves of society."
Whizzy came in with a large tea tray and set out the tea and scones between them. There was jam, and clotted cream for the scones. A little dish of delicate looking chocolates was in one corner of the tray. Honey, milk, and lemon wedges were nestled in beside the teapot. The discussion stopped momentarily as tea and dainties were served.
Hermione accepted her cup and her plate with grace, clearly seeing that Alathea wasn't willing to keep the discussion going while there were more immediate matters at hand. She'd be patient. There was so much to discuss. If this worked…this was exactly what she'd been looking for.
The house-elf bowed to them both, and took herself from the room.
At last, sipping her tea with a satisfied smile, Alathea indicated that Hermione could begin again. With a grin, Hermione took out her notes out of her beaded bag—they were quite extensive. The education needed to go both ways if they were to make any progress and there was a lot of ground to cover.
Hermione was sprawled on her couch idly petting Skim with one hand when Draco appeared in her fireplace. She looked startled to see him.
He blinked in surprise and took in her appearance. She was wearing robes that had probably been fresh some hours ago. Her hair was pinned back but some of it seemed to have fallen down. She did not look like she was ready for their date. "My, my. Look what the cat dragged in."
She gave a chuckle. "Is it that late already?"
"If by 'that late' you mean seven o'clock when I said I'd pick you up…yes. Although you like you might need to be physically picked up at this point." He flexed his arm muscles to bring a grin to her face. "I could arrange that."
She patted the sofa. "Just sit with me? It's been a long day."
He settled himself on the sofa with her, picking the cat up and setting him to one side. Skimbleshanks gave an indignant shake and climbed right into Draco's lap since Draco had had the effrontery to take his spot. He settled one arm over Hermione's shoulder and, glaring at the cat, consented to scratch the furball behind his pointy little ears.
"Could we skip the dinner reservations and stay in? It's been a long afternoon. There should be things in the kitchen for making sandwiches or I could order us in a pizza."
He kissed her on the forehead, wondering how she'd order dinner in and not have it take days to arrive. "You look like you had a long day."
"I did." She peeled herself off the couch long enough to find the phone—tucked into a corner of the kitchen—and call in delivery for them, and then settled herself back under Draco's arm.
"So, tell me about this long day."
And she did. By the time the pizza had arrived, Hermione had told him about the letter she'd had from Alathea Fawley that morning, and her ensuing meeting with the woman. It had lasted hours. Hermione had revived a little as she described it, her face flushed with determination. This was what she had been looking for. A job where she could do something that felt like it really mattered. "She's been looking for someone full-time to get the program off the ground to establish better communication and understanding between Muggle-born wizards and established wizarding society." It niggled at the back of her mind that this was exactly what she and Narcissa had talked about over a week ago, but Alathea had said McGonagall had recommended her. Hermione never had gotten around to visiting the Headmistress last week like she meant to. She tucked it in the back of her mind to add to the list of things to do.
"That can't be right. It's…strange," he muttered.
"You don't think I'm amply qualified?"
"No, not that. I'm astounded that she saw you in person. This old biddy has been a bit paranoid since her husband got Dragon Pox. She doesn't leave her estate and doesn't let many people in." He wondered what McGonagall had said that was so convincing. Well, what couldn't she have said? This was Granger. Top student. War heroine. All around do-gooder. Fawley would be lucky to get her heading up anything; Hermione had already told Draco that McGonagall had asked her to teach at Hogwarts more than once and she'd politely but firmly declined. Too many metaphorical ghosts. He couldn't blame her. If he ever set foot in Hogwarts again it would probably be too soon for him. He suppressed a shudder.
"Your mother did say something to that effect the other week." She frowned. "Your mother still sees her though?"
"They've known each other a long time, and you know my mother. Fingers in all the pies as long as her hands never get dirty." He looked at the cardboard box the deliveryman had brought and opened it with a sniff. It smelled good. He went to the kitchen to get them plates and drinks. As he came back to the couch he said, "I've been meaning to ask. Why did you have lunch with my mother? I had assumed you'd go to great lengths to avoid her."
Hermione shrugged and gestured for him to sit down and eat. It might sound odd to say that she had enjoyed politely spiting the woman at the award reception, though she suspected if anyone understood that particular pleasure, it would be Draco. Besides, Draco must know she wouldn't have initiated contact with his mother. That was all on Narcissa. She said nonchalantly, "She said she wanted to spend a little quality time with the girl you were courting."
"What did you say in return?" Draco asked, taking his seat. Courting? Unfortunately that did sound like his mother.
Hermione's face got very serious. "I told her you'd make a wonderful father and that it was just darling to watch you interacting with Teddy. You seemed like a complete natural."
There was a pause for a moment, and then Draco laughed, shaking his head in admiration. No doubt that response had surprised his mother—and probably made her uncomfortable, which was very likely Hermione's intention. He had to hand it to her. "Oh, I do like you." He kissed her and handed her a plate while he helped himself to a slice of whatever was in the box.
"The feeling is mutual." She paused a moment and took a breath. "Draco…" she started.
"Yes?"
"Are you courting me?"
He hardly missed a beat. "Define courting."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'd consider the word courting to be about a hundred years out of date for any reasonable person to be using now. It's generally perceived to be a period of wooing and exploration in a relationship to determine whether or not to marry someone. By some definitions, courtship is a wooing period that very firmly does not involve sex."
"In that case, we are not courting." Sex was most definitely on the table. On the table, on the bed, in the shower…he liked to be creative. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked her in the eye. "I don't have a ring hidden in my pocket, and I'm not about to ask you to move in with me. I do, however, very much enjoy spending time with you." Salazar's teeth that was true. They'd been seeing each other nearly every other day.
Hermione smiled and looked over the robes he was wearing tonight. "You don't have a pocket." It was a practical answer and she approved. If he'd pulled out a ring she'd have had to take him to St. Mungo's to get checked out for a Confundus charm. After all, they hadn't been seeing one another for long, even if their knowledge of each other went back many years. Neither of them was the same person that they had been at Hogwarts.
Not entirely sure how to interpret her smile, he kept talking. "I am taking this seriously, Hermione. I know we will most likely have challenges. I'll find you too bossy, you'll find me arrogant."
"Your mother will drive me insane."
"I think most of your friends are annoying little do-gooders. But...I want to see where this goes. I'm not going to spoil it right now with a too-soon, over-the-top romantic gesture that might sound like a good idea but will send one or both of us to panic. I want us to take our time."
She squeezed his hand. "I am so glad I don't have to commit you to St. Mungo's."
Draco felt relieved to know they were on the same page. He hoped she was around for a long time to come. Watching her talk about her meeting today—she was positively glowing. It seemed she might have found her next dragon to slay, or capture, or however it was phrased. She had a new cause. He found the timing a little suspicious; he resigned himself to an upcoming luncheon himself with his mother. In the meantime—this pizza wasn't bad. Why didn't wizards have a door-to-door dinner delivery service? Though he supposed that the cheese might fall off in Floo travel and that would get messy. Still, there might be alternatives. It was something to think about.
Hermione smiled as Draco tucked an errant piece of hair back behind her ear. She felt more at peace than she had in quite a while.
The lion face knocker stared at her, and asked her name, but before Hermione could respond, she heard a shout from the garden behind her.
"Hermione!"
"Neville? I didn't expect to find you here." She watched as he approached the front steps, wiping his forehead and smearing a little earth across it. "How are you?"
"The same as ever. I've been meaning to get to trimming the flutterby bushes for a couple weeks now and I finally had time to come do it. I grow a lot of stuff here, but the nursery takes a lot of care every day. I'll also be gathering some fresh dittany and a few other things from the backyard while I'm here. You look good. I haven't seen you since that night with Malfoy. You're here to see Gran?"
Hermione smiled at the honest compliment. They hadn't yet had a chance to get together and catch up after the Patched Cloak dinner. She'd finally reached the point after that dinner of having energy and interest in things again, but she'd been kept busy. "I am. I sent her a letter last week and had a letter back from her last night inviting me over this afternoon. I was interested in getting involved in some of the work I know she's part of."
"That's great, Hermione. I know she's always saying we need more people our age involved or she doesn't know what will happen in the long-term." He gave the door knocker a pointed look as the mouth opened again to ask his name—really, he'd lived there nearly his whole life—and the door swung open at his touch. "Gran! Hermione's here to see you."
They found Augusta in one of the parlors. Her eyes were closed, but she was sitting quite straight as if she were steeling herself to get up rather than as if she were napping while waiting for her guest. Both hands rested atop a cane in front of her that Hermione couldn't recall seeing before. Her eyes snapped open and there was no sign of tiredness. She made as if to stand.
"Don't trouble yourself, really," Hermione insisted.
"Really, Gran, the Mediwi—"
"Neville."
"Gran," he said, equally firmly. "I'm not having you risking another fall. You haven't healed all the way from the first one yet." He looked at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. "I'll go bring the tea things in while you two chat."
The austere old woman paused for a moment and nodded, watching her grandson leave the room. She sighed. "He'd live here if I asked him to. He offered not long ago but I don't think it would a satisfactory arrangement for either of us."
Hermione simply nodded, taking a seat across from the older witch. It was good to see Neville showing strength here; it was one thing to fight a horde of Death Eaters. It was quite another to take a stand as an adult against your formidable grandmother. "I really appreciate you seeing me today."
"Not at all. I appreciate your reaching out. I had assumed that you were too busy to take an interest in our work. I'm glad to hear it's otherwise. I think there are some things coming up that would be quite well suited to you."
Neville came in then carrying a tea tray and spent a few minutes making sure his Gran and Hermione had tea and set out a plate of biscuits. He smiled at them both before heading back outside, reminding his grandmother he was just a shout away if she needed him.
Hermione could not picture Augusta shouting.
The elderly witch took a long and satisfying sip of her tea.
"As a matter of fact, your letter last night came just a day behind a letter I received from Alathea Fawley. It looks like there's some full-time work coming up that I'd like to be involved with."
Augusta nodded as Hermione started to describe her meeting and plans. "It sounds like you don't need much from me at the moment after all," she said with a smile.
"Alathea mentioned she's still looking for someone to co-run the organization with me. I have so many ideas. We need to introduce a program for the summer before the first year of Hogwarts to teach incoming first year Muggle-borns the things they need to know about the Wizarding world that they might not pick up otherwise. And a program maybe for second or third years for helping children from Wizarding families to see some of the marvels of Muggle technology and the realities of Muggle life. I just introduced Draco Malfoy to phoning for pizza. It may have revolutionized his world," she said, smirking.
Augusta wondered a bit about that and decided not to ask. "I'm happy to help in anyway I can, but I don't think I have the energy to put into the full-time position. Still…I think there are some books in my library that would be of use to you. Wizarding history, books on manners and etiquette."
Hermione smiled and it was only a little forced. Augusta Longbottom might have been a good choice for her partner in this—she would be familiar with the intricacies of wizarding life and some of the blindspots that Hermione might still have even after all this time. Still, in a way it was a bit of a relief. Neville's grandmother might not be the easiest person to get along with or share a conflicting opinion with. They exchanged ideas back and forth for a little while, and Hermione took some notes.
When she started to notice the other witch flagging, Hermione thanked Augusta for her time and headed back outside to Disapparate. She wasn't surprised to find Neville was still lingering by the flutterby bushes. "Hey."
"Hi. Good meeting?"
"I think so. We exchanged some ideas. I think this is what I'm meant to be doing. I think it'll make a difference."
Neville gave her a hug. "I'm glad for you, Hermione."
"I'd love to pick your brain on this project sometime."
"You know where to find me. I'm spending as much time as I can over here right now until I know she's healed up. She's…I can't bear to lose her."
Hermione nodded in understanding at her friend.
His fingers twitched under the table. He breathed deeply and tried to remind himself that he'd been the one to invite her out. The Quaffle was in his hand and it was his move. He gave a charming smile as his mother sat down.
"It was such a pleasant surprise to receive your letter, Draco. I was beginning to fear you'd forgotten how to write or that you might have run out of stationery."
He pursed his lips and motioned for the waiter to fill their water glasses. "Oh, Mother. I couldn't possibly have run out of stationary. You sent me a lifetime supply of custom stationery last year for my birthday." He rarely used it, except to write to her. For business purposes—which most of his letters were—he used his own stationery, which he'd branded in a way that suited him.
Narcissa hardly looked at him as she unfolded her napkin into her lap and sipped her water. "Then I suppose you just had better things to do than write to your mother. I haven't seen you in weeks."
Draco did his best to keep his expression neutral. "I have been busy."
"That Granger girl is delightful. I really don't understand why you said such horrible things about her growing up."
He gritted his teeth. This had been a mistake. He knew that he could sit here and ask his mother point blank if she had arranged Hermione's new job, and she would lie through her teeth, and they'd both know she was lying, and she'd sit there and smile about it. Why had he bothered to put himself through this? He took a moment to compose himself. He could dance as well as the next wizard. "Well, you know what children are like. Always parroting back the things their parents tell them. Thank Godric, I outgrew that phase or I would have missed out on the most brilliant witch I've ever met." His mouth may have curled very slightly as he watched his mother's eyes crinkle.
Tidying up his work bench, Draco fortified himself with a chocolate frog to prepare for the conversation he'd been putting off. He ambled over to the dining table where Hermione was working on her notes. He made a mental reminder to find a nice desk for her that could go in the work room for when she came over. He could make space.
"How is it going?"
She looked up. "Plenty to do. Mostly I'm trying to get it on paper and try to consider the practicalities. I think we need to focus on students first. Augusta has some records I'll go over and look at next week that might be useful, and Alathea has sent over a stack of prospective people who might be able to help." She noticed something in his hand. "Is that the prototype?"
"It is."
"Well? Can I see it?"
He handed her a compact which she flipped open to reveal a mirror.
"It's still rough and needs work." He pulled another one out of his own pocket. "We'll need to do some distance tests, but I think it should be stable now."
She sat back in her chair, looking up at him and noting a slight awkwardness in his stance. He was nervous about something. "Come on. What is it?"
He scrubbed a hand through his hair and sat down beside her. "I have something to tell you. I had lunch with my mother the other day. I think there's something you should know. She's responsible—"
"—for reaching out to Alathea Fawley and telling her to bring me into this project?" Hermione asked dryly.
Draco looked at her in surprise and watched her grin. "You know?"
"Oh, I know. I'm not stupid. The timing was too coincidental to be anything else." Did he really think she was that naive? Sweet of him to try to warn her. "But I did also meet with McGonagall this week. Fawley did write to her, and McGonagall did recommend me. And I know that I'm the right person for this job."
"I suppose you also know that my mother is probably going to be all over this?"
A wicked grin curled up on the brunette's face. "Oh yes. She's offered to fill in and help out while I try to find someone; she's offered to assist 'as long as needed'. She thought that she and I might make a good team for a project like this. She's probably not entirely wrong—I'm sure she knows things that I don't."
"Why do you think she set it all up?"
"You tell me. She's your mother. I don't know if this is the next step in improving her image through charity work, or if she genuinely thinks this is needed. Or if maybe she was hoping that I'd be so busy I wouldn't have time for you." She still hadn't decided if Narcissa approved of their relationship or not.
"Hard to say with her. But I can guarantee you that she doesn't want another war. She may have refused to leave behind the Manor and the trappings of our prewar life, but she and my father are both committed to staying out of Azkaban and staying together." He squeezed her hand.
Hermione smiled back at him. It was good to know that sabotage sounded unlikely. She had enough work to do as it was. "I intend to stay in control. I've already told her that Malfoy Manor is not an acceptable place for us to work. She's going to have to make do with me at my flat or in Augusta's library until we find some suitable workspace." She'd work with Narcissa for a while at least. But it was going to be on her terms, not Narcissa's. "Working with me will make her look good I think. And working with her might make this look more acceptable to some more old fashioned parties. I'm not going to let her take over, but I recognize a useful tool when I see one."
Draco couldn't help but laugh. He was almost tempted to offer her the space he wasn't using on the second floor. His mother probably wouldn't like the smell, but it would be nice to have Hermione working nearby. Then again…Hermione seemed to have things under control. He wouldn't offer the space yet unless she seemed concerned about finding a place. He kissed her. The more he got to know her, the more he was convinced she would have made a decent Slytherin.
Filling Skim's food dish, Hermione nearly spilled it as she heard someone shouting to her.
"Oi! Hermione! Hermione!"
Startled, she went over to the fireplace and found Ron's face staring back at her. She knelt down, leaning over the grate. She tried not to wince as her knees hit the cold hard floor."Ron? What's going on?"
He grinned at her. "Mum is taking Teddy for the night. She told Harry she missed him, but I think she really thought he needed a break-whether he thinks so or not. Anyway, she talked him into it. We were thinking we'd go out tonight to the Leaky Cauldron for a few hours. You should come."
Hermione blinked. "Just the three of us?" It had been ages since the three of them did anything together as just the three of them—either Susan came along, or Teddy, or Ginny…she hadn't subjected Draco to their company yet since the dinner with Ron and Susan.
"Yeah! C'mon. Are you going to make me say it?" He rolled his eyes. "We miss you."
It was good to hear it. "All right. What time?"
"See you at the Leaky Cauldron in about half an hour? I suspect it'll take that long for Harry to stop fussing over Teddy. As if Mum hadn't already raised seven of us."
Personally, Hermione would round the number up to at least eight-she and Harry had been as good as half raised by the Weasley matron. A smile broke out on Hermione's face. "I'll see you there at six."
"Good." Ron's head disappeared from the flames and Hermione eased herself up off her knees. How had wizards not yet managed to come up with something better than this for casual calls? It was absurd. She couldn't wait for the magic mirrors to become available. Even the prototype was working pretty well for Draco and her.
Still, the smile stayed on Hermione's face. A night out with Ron and Harry sounded really good. Not to mention, overdue. In short order, Hermione had brushed her hair and put on a fresh sweater, Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron.
It wasn't too crowded, and Hermione seemed to be the first of the trio to arrive. No doubt Harry was going to have to be peeled away from Teddy and Mrs. Weasley by Ron. The image made Hermione smile. She tucked herself into a table at the corner where she'd have a good view of the room when the boys came in.
She watched the crowd for a little while—there was an elderly couple bickering at a nearby table, and a young witch and wizard making eyes at one another across the bar. When someone came to take her order, she ordered a Fizzing Flyby.
Harry and Ron turned up about the same time her drink did. Ron was rolling his eyes at Harry.
"Teddy will be fine, mate. He's spent the night with Mum before."
"I know, but it's been a while and he's older now—"
"Harry, you haven't given yourself a night off in almost a year," Ron said firmly. "Even Mum packed us off to Aunt Muriel's once in a while."
Hermione pushed her drink towards Harry with a glint of humor in her eye. "You may need this more than I do."
Harry couldn't decide whether Hermione was referring to Ron's badgering or his parental duties. Either way, he took a sip and made a face.
"That is the exact same reaction Draco had. I don't understand it. Ron?" She gestured at him to take the glass.
Ron shook his head with an impish grin. "No way."
Shrugging, Hermione picked up her glass and took a sip. It was a little bubbly, but she didn't see anything wrong with that.
Ron patted Harry on the shoulder and walked up to the bar to order them both drinks.
As Hermione turned back to Harry, she found he was already looking at her and smiling. "What?" she asked.
"You look happy."
"I am happy, Harry."
He reached across the table and squeezed her hand once. "You deserve it. Even if you have terrible taste in alcohol."
Hermione laughed. "I'll drink wine. No Firewhiskey. This is just good." She took another sip, feeling the bubbles skitter across her tongue.
Ron relented and finally decided he had to try her drink before it was gone as long as she agreed to order something else next round. He took a gulp and his nose twitched. "The flavor's not half bad but…not the bubbles. Here, let's try something else…"
Watching her friend head to the bar to get her a drink, Hermione smiled. It didn't matter how long they they went without seeing each other. There were some people in your life that were there forever, no matter what.
Author's Note 2: I've just got to say it again...thank you, everyone!